


Pin-Up Boy

by eigengrau



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bloodplay, Breathplay, Crossdressing, Humiliation, Kink Meme, M/M, PWP, shameless porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 05:22:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eigengrau/pseuds/eigengrau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh, Will. You are exquisite."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pin-Up Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Kink meme prompt: Hannibal gets Will to wear fancy expensive lingerie (possibly via guilt-tripping or other form of manipulation?) for his own entertainment, and then they get it on in that swanky office of his. Will is cripplingly awkward and ashamed but eventually gets into it.

The lace is thin between Hannibal's forefinger and thumb as he rubs at the line where the garter belt ends, low on Will's stomach. He feels it appraisingly, dark eyes flicking up as Will lets out a shaky breath. Will's chin is pointed up, his eyes averted to stare at the ceiling. Hannibal grabs his chin, forcing him to meet his gaze.

"Will."

Will shudders. A pink flush covers him from cheeks to collarbone, blotchy on his pale skin. His eyes dart around under hooded lids, trying to avoid contact. He trembles where he stands; Hannibal can feel him shaking where their bodies touch. His cock is heavy and hard between his legs, where it pokes up from under black lace. He is embarrassed. He is shamed. He is _so close_ to coming.

Hannibal ghosts his lips over Will's, revels in the murmur of a sob that it drags from him. His hand slides down to Will's throat, fits the web between thumb and palm just beneath the swell of his Adam's apple. Will's stubble is scratchy and rough. With Hannibal's free hand he traces shapes on Will's stomach, on his hips, on his thighs. His long, blunt fingers skim the straps of the garter belt, the tops of the sheer black stockings that encase Will's legs like spider webs. He tightens his grip on Will's throat at the same time as he cups his balls, gently gliding over the sensitive skin with just the barest hint of fingernail. He can hear the crunching slide of bone in Will's throat when he gasps. Hannibal presses his lips to Will's once, quickly, softly. In another setting, it could almost have been chaste. Then he pulls back, stepping away. Will's body bends to follow, curling in on himself as he makes a wordless noise of loss.

"Shhhh." Hannibal takes his hand, feeling the hot skin against his own dry, cool palm. He leads Will over and makes him stand, shivering exposed in the black lingerie, as he settles into his vast armchair. Will is biting his lip, trying not to cry. Hannibal watches Will while he strips off his pants, folds them in a neat pile on the floor. He is hard himself, his erection almost as aching as Will's, but he ignores it, relaxes back and cocks his head. "Are you ashamed?"

Will nods.

"Why?" Will looks up, pleading, but Hannibal is firm. "Tell me."

"I can't-" Will struggles with the words, caught between arousal and fear, "I can't, it's not-"

"Will." There is steel in Hannibal's voice, and when Will looks up with tears welling in his eyes the gaze he finally meets holds no sympathy.

He breaks. "It feels wrong," he chokes, "I shouldn't be wearing this, I shouldn't be letting you _touch_ me when I'm like this."

Hannibal stares. "Do you like it?"

Will nods frantically, teeth breaking through the skin of his lip as tears spill down his sharp cheeks. A sob wrenches itself from his throat.

Hannibal smiles. He reaches out a hand, beckons Will forward. "Come here."

Will nearly trips over himself in his scramble to get to Hannibal, practically throwing himself at the chair. He clambers on top of him, spreading his legs to straddle Hannibal's waist. Their cocks rub against each other and Will balls up a fist and shoves it in his mouth, biting hard so that no sound comes out when he moans. He's already stretched and wet from earlier, from where Hannibal's lube-slicked fingers had opened him up while he was bent over the grand cherrywood desk. He slides down onto Hannibal's cock slowly, though the twist in his hips belies the wish to plunge down, to be taken. Hannibal's grip on his hips is tight, and he knows that if he pulls them away the fragile imprint of the lace will be pressed into his palms.

Will stops at the very base of Hannibal, panting like one of his dogs, full and tight and squirming. Hannibal twists a hand into his unkempt curls and tugs him down. Their teeth clash painfully as they kiss, and when Hannibal bucks his hips up to force deeper into Will it is bright and aching and breathless. The silk of Will's stockings glides against Hannibal's naked thighs, and he cries out in sweet joyful agony as he rises and falls on top of Hannibal. The blood from his broken lip smears over his chin and before Hannibal can savor the sight he is burying his face in the crook of Hannibal's neck, quaking and gasping as he comes in short, desperate bursts. He twitches limply, an electric current sent through a rag doll as Hannibal arches up a few more times before releasing inside him soundlessly.  
  
Will's tears are wet against Hannibal's skin, even after he climbs off with shaky legs. The lingerie is twisted and wet, and come drips sluggishly down the inside of Will's thighs. Hannibal smiles, slow and lazy but with the teeth of a predator. Will is still blushing violently, but when their eyes meet now he does not look away.

"Oh, Will," Hannibal says, and cards a hand through Will's soft brown curls. "You are exquisite."


End file.
